Gemotions

The dust was settling, a fine, grey film on everything. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, smearing the grit. He could feel it in his teeth. It was a conspiracy, he knew it. The construction was a front. What was he trying to hide?

He took a circuitous route to the mailbox, staying in the shadows. He didn't want to be seen. He didn’t trust those people. He crouched by his mailbox, scanning the street before retrieving his mail. He tore open each envelope immediately, as if searching for something he couldn't name.

He saw the glint of metal in his peripheral vision and jumped, stumbling backwards. It was only the postman, but his heart was hammering against his ribs. He mumbled a greeting, forcing a smile. The postman gave a polite nod, and moved on. The neighbor's house loomed, a monstrous presence.